


The Palace Across the Mountains

by SierraBlanca



Series: The Lone Knight and the Sleeping Beast [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Anal Fingering, Dehumanization, Harems, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Kink Shaming, Multi, No Sex, Non-Consensual, Power Imbalance, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Rope Bondage, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraBlanca/pseuds/SierraBlanca
Summary: Loki was silent as they left the Inn. It was not so much on account of the crowds that lined the village streets, staring up at him with apprehension, not those he would see ahead following the ribbon of road as it snowed through the wheat fields. Although he resented the common folk’s gossiping, it was not the reason of his discomfort. That morning he had been told that they were leaving Jotunheim.





	

Loki was silent as they left the Inn. It was not so much on account of the crowds that lined the village streets, staring up at him with apprehension, not those he would see ahead following the ribbon of road as it snowed through the wheat fields. Although he resented the common folk’s gossiping, it was not the reason of his discomfort. That morning he had been told that they were leaving Jotunheim. While the handmaids of the Inn laced his hair with white ribbons and golden trinkets once again, Lord Stark had informed him that they would reach the Citadel by afternoon, if they were to hurry. It was the first time the young prince would cross the borders of his Realm, and he didn’t know what would be waiting for him on the other side. He was on edge.  

“When we are on the Citadel, I’ll take you to the King’s palace.” Lord Stark had told him, while putting on his battle armor. “You’ll see it as soon as we are on the other side of the mountains.”

He could not quite anatomize the feelings this aroused in him. What was expected of him, once they reached their destiny? Would he have to please others, in the way he was pleasing Lord Stark? Would the torments he was facing be kept behind doors, or would he have to face public shame? He didn’t know. The young lord, as if sensing his commotion, drew near and kissed him slowly; caressing his braided hair with rough fingers. Loki flinched, still alarmed by the cruelty with which he had been taken the night before. He didn’t pull away, thought, and let the man kiss his lips and tease his tongue as it pleased him.

“There’s no reason to be afraid.” The Lord said, then, looking at him in the eyes. “You’re not some common whore I stumbled upon in the markets. I won’t let anyone take you in the way I’ve taken you. Once we reach our destiny, you will serve me and me alone. Anyone who tries to act against this would meet a tragic fate.”

These words were now echoing in Loki’s head, clouding his thoughts; making unknown emotions stir inside him. He didn’t know if the Lord’s statement had meant to be a threat, or merely a consolation. He knew he wouldn’t be joining anyone in consensual pleasure again, thought, and that had casted a gloom upon him.

The sun was hotter than the day before, and the crowds were very great; the farmers having all come to the road. People were looking at them as they parted from the town, standing on tiptoe all the better to see. Loki refused to stare back, even though he felt curiosity for the peasants gathered around. Instead, he rode looking at the road and with his head high, barely gripping Lord Stark’s shoulders for support. There was a cold breeze passing through him, calming the pain in his sore muscles. He couldn’t stop thinking about the palace.

 

* * *

 

After a while, they entered a dark wooded pass that led through the mountains, and there were only occasional clusters of peasants here and there, peeping out from the thick-limbed oaks. A mist lay upon the ground. It wasn’t snowing anymore, and the quiet traces of winter that were so familiar to Loki were slowly disappearing. The Jotnar felt himself drowsy and soft as they rode into this new forest. Everything was green and bright, and all too hot for his taste. His head felt heavy and, without meaning to, he let it rest over Lord Stark’s shoulder. The man stayed silent about it, and so did he.

For some time, they rode. Noon arrived, and as they passed through the mangroves and the wild-grown creepers of the forest, they reached a green valley. Up ahead, across the sloping colors of spring and the callous underbrush around them, stood Asgard’s Citadel. It was far greater in size than the small city surrounding the Winter Palace, and the beauty of its limestone structures could be seen from miles away. A wilderness of dark towers and great fortress surpassed its borders, ready to protect the city from any foreign invasion, and the open gates of the drawbridge yawned like an old lion at nap time.

The air was warmer there, Loki noticed. One could feel it and even see it. It was nothing as dark as the narrow villages and murky forests that they had passed during their travel. Everything looked spacious, thoughtfully built and well ornamented. As they rode even nearer to the city, it stuck him that the peasants dressed in lighter and brighter colors. Even the crowd of magnificently dressed Lords and Ladies that he could see further ahead, going about their lives in carriages and rickshaws, seemed comfortable wearing colorful attires. He’d never seen anything like it. Where he came from, noblemen only dressed in black, silver and gold, which were the symbolic colors of power.

They reached the steep approach to the bridge, closer to the masses. Men and women alike were walking there, all clad in white velvet trimmed in gold, or bright and festive colors. Loki didn’t dare to look at them, and instead turned his gaze to the ground. It was one thing to be shown to the rustics of his own Realm, dressed in silks and jewels as the mistress of a common lord; but to be seen like this by the members of a Court was entirely different. They were people of importance; natives of a Kingdom that had once been at war with his. To be seen by them was to let his father’s reputation be stepped upon.

Lord Stark dismounted, and offered him a hand to help him off the horse. Loki took it unhappily. He motioned for him to take his arm, and shortly, they began to walk towards the gates of the Citadel. The Jotnar remained silent; glimpsing down at the Lord’s black boots as they crossed the drawbridge. Through a great dim corridor he was led, not daring to raise his eyes; thought he could see rich gowns and shinning boots all around him. Lords and Ladies were bowing to Lord Stark. There were whispers of greeting, and kisses being thrown.

The palace was not far, and they could reach it easily by foot. All along the way, people stopped to greet the young lord, as in a competition to see who was the most pleased by his return. Loki found it slightly pathetic, and a couple of times had to contain his laughter to avoid offending them. He was still looking down, but through the corners of his eyes he could see that people were staring at him; perhaps wondering what was a Jotnar doing in the city. No one asked Lord Stark for him, thought, and none dared to address him directly. He didn’t have to explain who he was, or what he was doing there, or why he was walking arm in arm with a respected lord. Not having to answer such questions relieved him.

As they reached the gates of the palace, a series of valets gathered around them, offering to guide them inside. Lord Stark accepted graciously, and soon, they were lead to the mouth of the Great Hall. It was a room far more vast and shadowy than any Loki had seen before. An immense fire roared on the hearth, thought the sun streamed warm through high narrow windows. Lords and Ladies moved all about the hall, flowing silently along the walls and towards the long wooden tables. Plates and goblets were already set. The air was heavy with the aroma of supper. There seemed to be some type of celebration.

Loki felt numb. Everything around him looked so foreign and unknown, and it frightened him. All the smells and colors floating around the room were saturating him; the contrast with his cold, greyish homeland been too vast. Without realizing, he gripped Lord Stark’s arm tighter. They were walking through the long tables now, heading, it seemed, towards the royal throne. Now, if they stumbled upon one or other acquaintance on the way, his Lord made sure of bowing respectfully; for they were no longer in the markets, but in a meeting of the nobility. Following his example, Loki bowed as well, even though every fiber of his being was telling him not to. He didn’t want to imagine what Lord Stark would do to him, if he felt that he had disrespected one of his friends.

Further ahead, Loki caught a glimpse of the King. He sat at the very end of the hall, upon a gold lined throne. His proud, golden locks were encircled by a crown, and the tough metal of his armor was trimmed in silver and gold embroidery. Even at a distance, one could sense the magnitude of his strength; the power in his arms and the steadiness in his gaze. He had a handsome face and even more handsome eyes; clear as the waters of a spring. Lord Stark was standing in front his throne now, smiling widely. The King saw him, and immediately rose from his seat. He walked down a couple of steps, and tightly embraced the young lord.

They greeted each other with joy, as one only does when meeting old friends. For a while, they exchanged pleasantries. They asked for each other’s family, and briefly spoke about recent events. The King talked about his latest hunting trip, and the magnificent tiger he had managed to catch to make his wife a summer coat. Lord Stark commented the problems he had meet along the travel, and gave his thoughts on the lands of Jotunheim, where it seemed he had resided for a few weeks.

It was only then, when it seemed that there was nothing else to speak about, that the King decided to acknowledge him. He didn’t address him directly, but rather, asked Lord Stark for him. “Legends have proven to be true, old friend.” The Lord said, a proud smile lingering on his face. His voice was loud and firm, so that the entire hall could hear him. Loki could sense how, suddenly, everyone’s attention turned to them. “A sleeping prince did, indeed, inhabit the dreadsome towers of the Winter Castle; and so did the long forgotten Court of King Laufey.”

This statement aroused commotion in the crowd. Behind him, the young prince could hear murmurs and whispers; bits and pieces of conversations. Before him, the King looked far from pleased by the delivered news. It showed in his voice and face that he was unhappy. “You have seen, then, King Laufey himself? That terrible jotun who once sieged the lands of my father, and brought war and destruction to our Kingdom? If it were any other, Lord Stark, I would think twice before believing you. Your words would be taken as matter to laugh about, surely. I know you to be a man serious man, thought, and your words do not cause me laughter, but worry.” He said, taking a seat upon his throne again.

“There must have been some reasoning behind your actions, so I ask you, what made you think that waking up these creatures would be advisable in any way? If King Laufey is, indeed, the cruel invader that legend would have us believe, isn’t a matter of time before he tries to attack our Realm?” The King asked, managing to remain calm, despite his worries. Lord Stark smiled apologetically, quickly shaking his head.

“Rest at ease, King Thor. I do know something about politics, even though I don’t enjoy mingling in them, and I’ve already made sure that no calamity falls into our Kingdom.” He took Loki by the arm while he said this, and forced him to give three steps forwards, so that the King would look at him better. “This creature I present to you is Loki Laufeyson. He might look harmless, when compared to others of his race, but don’t let his size fool you. He was once the sole heir of those distant lands of the north, where the Jotnar thrive and the Old Court rules. If Asgard and Jotunheim had gone to war, I have no doubts this is the warrior you would have faced in battle.”

The whispers around him suddenly grew into laughter. He didn’t have to wonder why. Say that to a king while gesturing at a sullen runt dressed in courtier clothes was, indeed, something to laugh about. He knew in his heart that any trace of dignity that might have been still held to his name was about to be tarnished. His father’s reputation would be spit upon, and so would the respectability of the Old Court.

“But this would not happen. I speak in past of Loki’s inheritance, for he is an heir no longer. His father has given him to me, as a gift. A symbol of his submission.” Lord Stark was smiling now, seeming full of pride. “I guarantee you that any pretension towards your throne has been diverted. Laufey knows that any rebellion of his part will end with a rope around his son’s lovely neck.”

Not capable of hiding his amusement anymore, the King began to laugh. It was a low, throaty sound, that managed to be both charming and proud. “It is a handsome gift the one you’ve received, although unusual.” He said, smiling. “I don’t remember ever housing a Jotnar in my palace, let alone as a courtier. I fail to see how one could take pleasure from them, honestly, but I won’t judge your attachments. If he is what you want, I hope you enjoy his company immensely.”

There was a hit of merriment in the King’s voice, as if the final agreement between Lord Stark and King Laufey caused him great joy. It was a stain on the history of an enemy kingdom, hence Loki didn’t doubt his shame brought him satisfaction. He knew he was in no position of defending himself, so instead of speaking out against the shameful statements he remained silent, trying to ignore the sting they left as best as he could. When the quality of his performance was brought to table and an insidious laughter rose from the Court gathered around, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore it as well.  

 

* * *

 

“Are we going to make the ceremony, My Lord?”

Anthony turned around to look at his courtesan, surprised by the request. They were in one of the largest bedrooms of the palace; the one that was usually reserved to him and his paramours. He was a whimsical man, and his was the largest harem in the whole Citadel, with the exception of the group that belonged to the King.  Unless he was away in adventures, he didn’t like to part anywhere without them, so whenever there was a festivity in the city, the hosts had to make sure they had enough space for him and his courtesans before inviting him.

The one who was talking to him had been with him for a while. He liked her, and when he was first greeted by the lovely group he had made sure to sit on the cushions besides her, leaving Loki in a faraway seat at his left. The Jotnar was still affected by the meeting they’ve had with the King earlier that day, and Anthony guessed that he would not make suitable company for the rest of the evening. He decided to stay away, and instead enjoy the presence of his always cheerful girls.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Joan.” Anthony responded, drinking deeply from his goblet of wine. Loki still had some pride in him, and the humiliation he had faced in the Great Hall had made him both angry and bitter. Letting him play games with the girls, who were naïve and easily hurt, seemed unwise for the moment.

“But all the girls you brought from your travels had a ceremony made. He should have one too.” Joan complained, seeming displeased. She was a small brunette, with clear white skin and pretty blue eyes. Of all his girls, she was the most kind and well-spoken, and whenever a new acquirement was brought in, she always made sure to make them feel welcome. Briefly, Anthony wondered whether he should grant her her wish. Loki was in a poor temper, but it would be wrong to deprive him of the experience in that account. All the new girls went through it in their first night with the harem; being the first man on the group, sparing him seemed inequitable.

For a moment, he turned his head to look at the creature. He was seating on the large royal bed that stood in the center of the room; nesting between long satin cushions and red silk duvet covers. Still dressed in his white robe and his riding boots, he was facing away from him and the girls; eyes lost in the large windows before him, and the landscape that laid beyond. Doing the ceremony certainly sounded appealing, and since he was a man who yielded easily to temptations, Anthony decided he would have it done. He called the creature by name, and even at a distance, he could see how he tensed. Loki turned to look at him, and for a while only stared; as if trying to make sure he had heard correctly. Anthony called him again, and immediately he stood up to approach them.  His quickness in obeying made the Lord smile.

“Joan and the girls want to make you a ceremony.” He informed him, looking up at him from his place over the cushions. He spoke loud, so the rest of the harem would hear him. Through the corner of his eyes he could see how everyone turned around to look at them. “It is a game they play, when someone new comes in. Should we grant them their wish?”

Loki looked at him with doubtful eyes. He didn’t seem to know what he was supposed to respond, or if he should respond anything at all. Anthony understood his worries without having to ask for them. “You don’t have to please them.” He assured him, tiding his head to one side. He didn’t like having to look up to stare at the Jotnar, so he stood up in one swift motion; leaving them on the same level. “It is merely a game.” He said. “A challenge, if you will.”

The creature seemed suspicious; as if he thought the invitation to be some type of trick. He stared at him for a moment, and then at Joan, who was still seating on the floor. She was looking back at him, full of curiosity. It was the first time she ever saw a Jotnar, and you could tell by the amazement in her eyes. “What kind of challenge?” He asked, finally. Some of the courtesans let out surprised sounds; as if they couldn’t believe that the silent creature they had been staring at the whole night had the power of speech. Anthony smiled at their simplicity.

“You don’t have to do anything. Stay still and let them play.” He said. Then he got closer, and without warning undid the golden bindings that kept Loki’s robe in place; letting the fine garment fall to the floor. All around them, the girls laughed. The creature was now looking at him with dark, sullen eyes; sure that the young lord had been making fun of him. He hadn’t. The games of his courtesans were far from innocent, but it will be a lie to say that they were carnal activities. Their challenges had nothing to do with sexual desire. They were just a way to satisfy their curiosity.

“Shall we put him a gag, My Lord?” One of them asked, looking up at them from her place over the cushions. Her name was Alice; a young Lady Elf that had come to his service after his father’s intent of rebellion was crashed by the King. She was a tall readhead, and had beautiful green eyes that matched the jewels around her neck. She was gracious but outspoken, and dreaded to hear sobbing during the initiation ceremonies. It put her on edge. 

“No, you shall not.” Anthony answered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gags would make him a whiner. He needs to learn to be silent.”

“And the braids, my lord? Should we undo them?” Someone else asked.

“No, no. Leave his hair as it is.” Anthony responded, shaking his head. He liked how the braids and ribbons looked crossing the creature’s curly hair. Women’s hairstyles suited him fine. “Why don’t you put him on the table, girls? So we can all see.”

At his request, the entire harem seemed delighted. They took Loki by the arms and guided him to a rectangular table that stood in the center of the room; close to the royal bed. With happy voices and smiling faces they asked him to kneel; as if they were kids playing, prompting a new comer to join their games. It was slightly disturbing, but Loki guessed it was better than the ordering around that he usually got from Lord Stark. He knelt on the table, supporting his weight on hands and knees, and faced the crowd of giggling girls. They told him to open his legs as much as he could, and bound his ankles with leather. He realized he was being tied up again, and without meaning to, he trembled. There were still white marks on his skin for the strong satin bounds he had been strapped with the night before.

His wrists were put behind his back and firmly bound, so his weight rested only on his knees and the front of his feet. His thighs were separated from each other, trying to maintain some sort of balance, and both of his ankles were high and up in the air. His arms lay motionless behind his back, and the awkward position forced him to push out his chest to avoid falling down. Then, to his shame, Lord Stark drew closer and raised his chin; instructing him not to lower it.

Loki raised his eyes and saw all the room about him; staring. Some of the girls were standing up from the cushions to see better. He didn’t know how much they were. He had counted fifteen, but they could be more. Briefly, he glanced at his right, catching the sight of the immense fire burning in the chimney of the room, illuminating the night. Then he glanced at his left and saw one of the girls. She had soft blue eyes and a thin angular face; something about her seemed to evince tenderness. She was the one who had been talking to Lord Stark earlier. Joan, he had called her. She was standing beside him, closer than the other courtesans; staring at the bounds that restrained his limbs.

A long shudder went through him as he contemplated himself – spread out, yet mounted so that all could inspect his face if they chose. Nothing covered him, and even in the warm weather of that strange, unknown Kingdom to which he had been brought, he felt strangely cold. Even his hair was no covering, for it had been braided tight and efficiently around his shoulders; cloaking no part of him. He knew his cock was getting hard; cruelly incited by the gentle touches of Lord Stark’s courtesans, and there was no way to conceal it.

“This must be strange for you.” Joan told him suddenly, speaking under her breath. “To be shown like this in front of so many strangers. You are probably ashamed. You shouldn’t, thought. We’ve all went through this before, so we won’t judge you. You used to be a prince, so you must be a stranger to these sort of things; to been used by people more powerful than you, to be punished and abused just to give pleasure. I do know it, thought, so I’ll give you an advice.” She got even closer to him, then, putting her mouth against his left ear. “The only way to maintain one’s dignity in these situations is to let them pass, silently. You must not scream. You must not cry, even if you are in pain. Silence is gracious, and it would keep you from being hurt.”

Her voice was warm; strangely comforting. When she put a hand over his arm he couldn’t help but tremble. “You’re so frightened and it’s useless. You seek some way to resist, some way to escape, but there is none. Do not tense your limb. You are only hurting yourself.” Loki bit his lower lip and looked up at her, somehow soothed by her speaking to him. She smoothed back some strands of hair from his forehead. Her hand was light and cold.

“Now be still. The girls are coming to see you.”

Loki squirmed in discomfort, but did nothing to escape or pull away. The air was hot and it teased his naked buttocks and his hard cock rather cruelly. He was looking down, but he could hear the rustle of the courtesans’ clothes and see the flash of their gold bracelets. He felt cool fingers caressing his chest, squeezing his nipples lightly. Behind him, there was a pair of very slow hands parting his legs even more. And now someone touched his face, and another hand pinched the calf of his leg. A giggle followed the mischievous touch.

It seemed that his body was all concentrated in its most shameful places. There was a throbbing in the base of his cock, and the girls’ hands felt warm and soft as if he himself were freezing. He felt bold fingers touching his buttocks, gathering the tender flesh and squeezing it; one of the courtesans went even further, prodding at that tiny and concealed opening that had been so mistreated the night before. He couldn’t help but grunt; a low, beastly sound that made the fingers disappear.

Loki found himself immersed in grim thoughts. He still had many questions about the place where he was, and how his life would be from now on. He had left the Great Hall that afternoon with a lot of mixed emotions, and knowing about his Lord’s courtesans had only made him more confused. Should he be scared by the fact that Lord Stark needed so many companions to keep himself entertained? Or should he be glad for not been the only one enduring his humiliations? He tried to find an answer to these questions, but he couldn’t, for the hands were all over him and they didn’t let him concentrate.

He uttered a low cry when he felt the girls touching his very sex, slowly soothing the hair there. Suddenly, a hand gripped him, and a thumb began to massage the tip of the organ. He struggled not to moan. There were hands passing over his legs and forearms, feeling the muscles there, and a shy finger was slowly lining his face; touching its white engravings. Then, to his horror, he felt a pair of long fingers gliding into his opening and widening it. It was all sore from Lord Stark’s thrusts of last night, and thought the fingers were gentle, they made a cringing pain arise inside him.

“What are you doing, Claire? Leave the poor thing be!” A girl said at his left, seeming displeased by the new display.  

“Why? He doesn’t mind. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before.” Another one responded, giggling somewhere behind him. The comment made his cheeks grow all the more darker. It seemed to produce laughter in the crowd, thought; a light tinkling laughter, as if all of this were but the greatest amusement. He realized suddenly that he was straining with all his might to close his legs, but with the bounds it was quite impossible. The courtesans seemed to take pity on him, and as the hand prodding at him was slapped away, he felt himself relax.

Joan was beside him again. She patted his lower back, leaning over so he felt her velvet robe sliding against his naked arm. He looked at her with dark, tempting eyes, as if he were trying to appeal to her. The need between his legs was becoming painful. She laughed at that; not mockingly, but like one does when a senseless offering is made. “Don’t look at me like that. Lord Stark won’t like it if he sees you.” She said, passing a hand over his braided hair.

He felt confused by this rejection. Where did he stood in the hierarchy of this odd group? Was he allowed to take these girls for his own pleasure? Or would such intentions be meet by a punishment from his Lord? Was he below the other courtesans or above them? Maybe he was just one of them, without any distinctions? He didn’t know.

All that he knew was that this treatment he was facing was some type of ritual. A ceremony of some sort. Others had suffered before, so there was no reason to think he couldn’t do the same. It was all fixed, and he was all naked and helpless, and for some reason that only made his cock grow harder. He found didn’t care. For once, he would let himself take some pleasure from his torments, if only because he found certain benevolence in these new torturers.

The girls kept touching and prodding and he let them. There was a hand cupping his balls now, and a mischievous tongue had darted over his cock to tease him. Again, he struggled not to moan. A spank came, and then a giggle. Then a second spank, and a third one, and then they stopped. Someone was patting his head, marveling at the size and strength of his horns. Hands ran down his back, feeling the hard muscles there, and then up his chest and forearms, massaging the tension this awkward position was causing. It was uncomfortable, but not unpleasant.

Far away, laying over the cushions of the royal bed, was Lord Stark, staring at him with his dark brown eyes. There was an unspoken promise in the way he looked at him, and Loki realized that it was better for him to enjoy these tender touches while they lasted. This was merely a spectacle, and as soon as it finished, he would have to crawl into that bed and attend his Lord’s pleasure. There was still more to come, and the attentions the man would give him would be nowhere near as kind as the ones his courtesans could muster.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you doubt Tony Stark would have a harem if he were in medieval times? I absolutely don't :s


End file.
